Red
by GealachGirl
Summary: Stiles has no real business with the wolf in the woods, but then again there's not much he can do about him. And maybe there's more to him than meets the eye? That would certainly explain a lot. Sterek. Obviously slash. The popular "Red Riding Hood" tie-in, with a twist. (Miss me? Just kidding, but God, it's been a long time.)
1. Prologue

*Prologue*

Once upon a time there was a boy with a strange first name that hadn't been used since his mother's death and that he wasn't too fond of anyway.

The boy was called Stiles and he lived with his widowed father in a village several miles away from the one they'd lived in with his mother. The boy was restless and took more comfort in the woods surrounding the village than in the villagers. This was because most of the villagers, while friendly, kept distance between themselves and the unlucky Stilinski men.

Stiles felt that the woods were friendlier and more inviting to him than anyone else in the village, including his friend Scott. He would wander around in the trees for hours on end, climbing or running or simply lying on the forest floor and staring at the treetops. His dad didn't know, and if the world continued in Stiles' favor, he never would know. If his dad found out, his visits to the forest would be more difficult and much more guilt-ridden.

Claudia Stilinski, Stiles' mother, had been killed by a wolf. The animal had been impossible to track and, therefore, unable to be killed, and Stiles' father was determined to keep his son as far away from accident as he could. Stiles knew that this was as much out of his father's sense of duty to Stiles' mother as it was his father's love for him. The knowledge made Stiles feel bad to be betraying both of his parents, but it couldn't keep him out of the forest.

The incident had happened three years ago and the new village had slowly become home to Stiles and his father. The people were friendly enough, but the Stilinski men had few friends, only the McCalls, Scott and his mother. Still, Stiles' father made a living, Stiles excelled in school, and with his father's long hours, Stiles had time to spend in the forest.

The only reason Stiles didn't feel worse about being in the forest against his father's wishes was the knowledge that he was free from danger, and this was because whenever Stiles went out, he had his wolf to protect him.

Stiles' confidence in the hulking black animal was founded in how they met, the day he ran off into the forest without thought.

On the anniversary of the death of Stiles' mother, after a year of living in the village and a year of time passing without her, the grief had hit Stiles in a way that it hadn't the first time. Once his dad had left the house, Stiles took off into the forest with the burning desire for something to happen that would wrench his mind away from the image of the last look he'd had of his mother. The "well thought out plan" turned out to be, surprisingly, successful.

Brooding in a clearing on the trunk of a fallen tree, Stiles had been about to give up his quest when heavy rustling in the bushes pushed him to his feet. He stared in shock and panic as a huge bear emerged. It hadn't noticed him initially, but after curiously sniffing the air, it caught the scent of human and it had turned its beady black eyes on Stiles. His flight instinct needed work because he had been paralyzed and he'd simply watched as the bear advanced on him with the clear intent to rip him apart. Stiles accepted this end as his legs still wouldn't move and mentally apologized to his dad for his recklessness, sure that this loss—and to another animal attack—would destroy the already struggling man. A low growl rumbled out of the bear's mouth and Stiles closed his eyes, not wanting to watch the monster get any closer to him.

His death had been stalled, though, by a vicious snarl ripping through the air. Stiles' eyes snapped back open and lit on a black wolf the size of a small horse. It was in front of him, blocking the bear from access to his soft, human body. The wolf growled at the bear and lunged toward it, snapping its jaws near the bear's legs and chest. The bear roared and swung a paw at the wolf's head but apparently got the message as it turned and waddled back the way it had come.

Breathing hard, Stiles' eyes widened when the wolf turned to him. He'd backed up a few steps, feeling backward for tree trunks, and the wolf had stayed still, watching him with red-tinted eyes. Stiles had stopped once he was about three feet away when he registered that the wolf wasn't coming for him. The wolf had seemed surprised, and Stiles crouched so they were on the same level. Slowly, and maybe more surprising to him than to the wolf, a smile spread on his face and he dug in his pocket for the bread he'd taken with him. As a show of gratitude, Stiles showed the wolf the food and reached out to place it on the ground in front of the animal.

He'd meant for it to be a symbolic gesture, but to his surprise, the wolf had sniffed the offering and had eaten it appreciatively. Stiles had smiled again, simply amazed that the wolf hadn't attacked him. The next day, the wolf had been awaiting his arrival at the edge of the forest and hadn't left his side the whole afternoon. The same happened day after day and Stiles soon found himself trusting and possibly befriending an animal of the same variety that had taken his mother away, an animal he had no real business associating with, but Stiles found himself unable to shake the wolf's presence and with no real desire to do so.


	2. Chapter 1

**Got suddenly busy, sorry! **

"Bye, son! I'll be home at the regular time!" The voice carried up the stairs and down the hall to Stiles' ears in his room, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"I'll see you then, Dad!" he called back, watching from the window as his father left the house and walked toward town and his office for law enforcement. Stiles counted in his head, waiting for evidence that his father hadn't left anything behind and wasn't coming back. Once that was confirmed, Stiles grabbed his bag and lunged away from the window, bounding down the stairs and through the front door. Stiles took off into the woods at a jog, scanning the tree trunks for flashes of black or pinpoints of red.

Stiles didn't bother calling because he knew that the wolf knew his scent and would appear when he caught it. He was a little bothered that the wolf wasn't waiting for him at the edge of the yard as he usually did, but he had no control over the wolf and there was probably something more important going on. Stiles continued into the forest, though, knowing that he wouldn't be alone for long.

Once Stiles had made it to the clearing where he'd first met the wolf, he stopped and dropped his bag. He looked up at the tree tops and took a deep breath, feeling tension finally flow out of his body. Stiles lowered his head and grinned at the tree in front of him. It was rather childish, his immediate urge to climb as high as he could, but Stiles only cared about being in the branches, and before long he was looking over the forest floor.

It wasn't much longer before his companion entered the clearing. The wolf saw the bag first and approached it with a quiet growl rumbling in his chest. Stiles smiled a little, waiting to see how long the wolf would be upset before catching Stiles' scent and finding him in the tree. Something seemed wrong, though, and Stiles frowned when the wolf continued to circle the bag and growl, not bothering to follow Stiles' scent anywhere.

Stiles whistled and the wolf's ears perked up, his head swinging up to look directly at Stiles. Stiles was unsure if he were imagining it or not, but he thought the wolf looked panicked or distressed. He descended the tree and laughed a little to shake off his uneasiness. "You're losing your touch," he said, walking toward his bag. The wolf growled a little, but Stiles only laughed again, slinging the bag over his shoulder and walking in a direction while the wolf fell in beside him.

"It's okay, I won't tell anyone," Stiles assured, "It's not like I have anyone to tell anyway." He grimaced and kicked at a rock, sending it into a tree trunk. "Scott's being a dick again." The wolf growled a little and Stiles couldn't help smiling. "Everyone is, but Scott's caught up in it this time." He looked down at his wolf and saw the red-tinted eyes looking back at him. Stiles sighed and stopped walking to sit down and stare at the trees in the distance.

"The rumor's going around again that I'm unlucky. I'm not sure who brought it back up, but Isaac and Erica have Scott convinced that it's true. As a result, I was sitting alone today until Allison, who is amazing even though she's taken over my best friend's life, sat by me, dragging Scott with her." Stiles looked at the ground, but continued to talk. "I don't even think that I'm just unlucky this time, I think that whoever brought the story back to life added a curse or something." The wolf was growling low in his throat. "It's kind of cool to think that someone would bother to curse me or my family, but I'd rather not have people actually believe it and avoid me because of it." A glance to his wolf showed that this news seemed to anger the animal. Stiles felt vindicated.

"I'm alright. I can deal with ostracism until the story dies down again. It's happened before and it was worse when my dad and I first moved here. I don't know why Scott's convinced this time because he's always ignored it before, but I'm sure he'll come around. Hopefully." Stiles doubted that Scott would do it on his own and he was relying heavily on Allison to bring his friend back around. "Shit. Let's not talk about that right now, though." Stiles rose and beat the dirt off of his pants. "Let's run, I feel like I need to do something after today." In response to the wolf's gaze, Stiles sighed again. "I need to move. I can't sit still and think any more."

The wolf huffed and shifted to his feet, shaking himself before looking expectantly toward Stiles. Stiles smiled and dropped his bag to the ground before flashing a grin at the wolf. In the next moment, they were running through the forest and Stiles' mind began to empty among the flashes of trees. His wolf bounded through the foliage at a pace slow enough to stay near Stiles, and Stiles was grateful for the loyal company. Stiles himself was short of sprinting, throwing all of his frustration into the movement of his legs.

Stiles jumped over felled trees and dodged around those still standing and his chest loosened with each measure of ground he covered. Eventually, he was able to force his mind away from the village and his senses were flooded with the forest. Stiles' heart worked to supply blood to his legs and Stiles relished the harsh drag of breath in and out of his mouth because this felt perfect.

After a while, Stiles' throat felt raw and his legs shook as his feet landed on the ground. He slowed and collapsed—purposefully—landing on his back, when it became too much for him, but the grin remained fixed to his face. The canopy of the forest looked the same, but Stiles was able to appreciate the sight now that his head had cleared. The wolf dropped to the ground beside him, winded but not nearly as drained.

The wolf was lying farther away from Stiles than he normally would and a bit of concern colored Stiles' clarity. He had never touched the black fur and the animal always kept his distance, but normally the wolf was nearer. "What? Do I smell bad?" Stiles asked, looking at the animal questioningly. His reply was only the steady gaze back.

Stiles shook his head and returned his eyes to the sky above him, drinking in the air and the slight sunlight that spilled through the branches of the canopy. The wolf still seemed tense and Stiles took to watching him. Before long, he was standing again, and he stared at Stiles until Stiles found himself back on his feet. "What's going on?"

The wolf turned back the way they'd come and trotted toward the village. Frowning, Stiles followed. Once they had almost returned to the clearing in which they met, the wolf stopped and Stiles, still confused, stopped with him. The wolf stared toward the town with his ears flattened and Stiles, always one to personify animals, swore that the wolf appeared to be thinking.

His protector, it seemed, was restless and uneasy and Stiles wondered again just what the hell he was doing with a wolf. The wolf had never shown any intentions to harm him, but Stiles knew that the wolf who stuck stubbornly by his side was still a wild animal. And what made Stiles think he wasn't making a mockery of his mother's death by entrusting his life to a wolf?

Stiles' daily internal struggle confronted that precise issue. He'd been devastated when she had died and now he went into the forest hoping that the wolf would be waiting for him. Stiles knew that he was safe, but his mind constantly flashed to the scene of his mother's attack whenever his father asked where he'd been or where he was going.

Feeling guilty and conflicted, Stiles reclaimed his bag and bade the wolf farewell. Again, he gave the wolf human emotions and told himself that the wolf looked disappointed at his abrupt departure, but pleased at the same time. He continued through the trees and into town, though, and fought the urge to look back.

Stiles, still unable to shake his guilty feeling, ducked his head as he made his way up the small hill and into the village proper. As always, the town was bustling with people moving from store to store and meeting on the streets as if they hadn't seen one another for months. Stiles stood still momentarily, watching the people while an idea developed. Once his decision was semi-thought through, Stiles made his way through the crowds and rang the bell at the veterinarian's door before entering.

"Hello, Stiles. Scott just left," Dr. Deaton greeted as he came around the counter.

"I know. I'm not here for Scott. I have some questions and I'm pretty sure you can answer them."

Deaton looked surprised but not unwelcoming. "Alright, come back here and we can talk." Stiles followed the man into the back of his office. "So, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"I have a few questions about wolves…" Stiles began, aware that this topic was strange for him to introduce. Deaton did bestow a questioning look in Stiles' direction, but he nodded for Stiles to continue.

"Okay." Stiles took a breath to get his thoughts in order. "Is it normal for wolves to…interact with humans?"

Deaton paused for a moment and used the time he was silent to check the tag on the outside of a kennel. "No. Wolves typically fear humans and consciously avoid them." Stiles nodded, storing the information. "Wolves may become habituated to humans by living in close contact, especially if they're fed." That answered, maybe, why the wolf continued to meet him. Deaton must have noticed his subdued expression because he leaned toward Stiles, reaching out to him. "Is this about your mother? Because what happened to your mother was highly unusual and shouldn't worry you."

Stiles looked down and rubbed his hand over the back of his head. "I know, the authorities explained that." He returned his gaze to Deaton's and tried not to sound desperate. "But, are there any circumstances when a wolf would interact with a human?" Stiles needed to understand the meaning of his daily meetings and Deaton was the only person who could explain it.

Deaton took a moment before answering and simply looked at Stiles, appearing to evaluate him and his motives for asking before responding. "There are none that I can think of."

"Is it dangerous if a wolf becomes habituated to people?" Stiles asked anxiously. His wolf was never hostile toward him, but a small weight in Stiles' stomach urged him to ask the question.

"It does have the potential to be dangerous, only because the wolf will begin to think of the new territory as its own and may take measures to protect the territory." Deaton was still looking at Stiles curiously, but Stiles was overwhelmed with his feeling of guilt. "Have you encountered any wolves, Stiles?" Stiles shook his head and moved to leave the building.

"No sir," he forced a smile to his face, "I was just satisfying my curiosity. Thank you, you've definitely helped." With that final word, Stiles pushed through the door to the building, breathing around the tightening in his chest.

The wolf posed no danger to the community because he was always in the woods, but Stiles seemed to be in trouble. He'd read enough books about wolves after his mother's attack to know how territorial wolves were and that the wolf might consider Stiles "territory" now. That was the only way Stiles could explain it. The area where he'd first met the wolf was probably already in the wolf's territory, and Stiles constantly being there gradually made him part of it.

Stiles swallowed and forced his legs to move away from the door of the vet's building. He had a few options for methods to pass time, but most of them were now avoiding him out of fear of catching his curse. Watching the passersby, Stiles saw a pair of his classmates and when they saw him, their steps became more hurried. He sighed and turned in the direction of his house, deciding that it would probably be best to spend the rest of his day there.

At the house, Stiles noticed that his father was home. He wasn't sure why because he knew that he hadn't been in the forest or at Deaton's for the length of his father's shift. Frowning, he increased his pace and pushed through the front door within seconds. "Dad?" he called, slightly worried.

"Hey, Stiles, how have you been?" Stiles walked into the kitchen to find his father at the table, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee.

"Why are you home? You just left for work."

"We caught our criminal. Received a new tip about a lead we hadn't tried yet and it turned out quickly. The criminal is being processed at the station right now and there's nothing left for me to do. Why, have I interrupted your plans?" He cocked an eyebrow in playful questioning and Stiles had difficulty remembering when he'd last seen his dad in such a positive mood.

"No…I was just wondering because you're back early." Stiles certainly wasn't complaining about his father's presence.

"Why are you here and not out with your friends? You don't have anything else to do." Stiles' spirits dropped a little at the mention of his social dilemma. His dad evidently noticed because the light left his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Stiles startled and shook his head. "Nothing. I'm good. Nope, everything's fine."

"Stiles…you can talk to me." His dad was looking at him carefully now and Stiles knew that he was in danger of having to suffer through an interrogation.

"Seriously Dad, I'm okay. There's nothing that you have to worry about, I promise." His dad knowing about the situation wasn't going to change anything, of that Stiles was sure, so there was no reason for him to explain it. "I'm going to go upstairs and read or something." He had started up the stairs before his father could say anything to stop him and was in his room down the hallway in a matter of seconds.

Once inside, Stiles went to his window and sat on the bench in front of it. He leaned his forehead against the glass and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and watching the fog gather and disappear.


	3. Chapter 2

**Damn! Time got away from me and this is really delayed. Sorry those of you who were looking forward to it (and for such a short chapter, too). But I hope you enjoy and that you feel free to review! It certainly helps.**

Later, buried in a book unrelated to anything in his real world, Stiles' father called up the stairs. He startled, blinking and looked toward his door. "What?" he called back.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go to the store for me." His father appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised in invitation. Obviously he didn't believe that everything in Stiles' world was fine.

"Which one?" the teenager asked.

"Why don't you hit all of them?" His dad held out money, more than enough for a few household necessities, trying to further entice Stiles into taking the trip.

Stiles unfolded himself from the window seat and stood, taking the money that his father offered. "Alright, I'll be back in a little bit," he mumbled, taking a sweatshirt from his bed on his way out of the door. His father offered him a smile and Stiles returned it half-heartedly.

Outside, Stiles put the sweatshirt on to fight the wind and ducked his head as he walked toward the business area of the village for the second time that day. The square was as busy as before with people moving to and fro as they normally did.

Stiles recognized his classmates, but didn't acknowledge any of them because he knew that they would avoid his eye or give him a look to further inform him that he wasn't welcome to interact with them. Still, a few pointedly moved out of his way, averting their gazes from his cursed form. Stiles rolled his eyes, decided against confronting them, and pushed his way into the first store surrounding the square.

Groceries were simple and Stiles managed to get in and out of each specialized shop before they closed for the day. Stiles also bought more staples like paper and pens because he'd noticed a shortage at the house. He took care of everything he and his father might need, and when everything was taken care, of the only store remaining was the bookstore.

Stiles had enough money left for at least one book and he knew that the extra money was intended for the bookstore, but he was tempted to go home because the rejection from his peers every time they saw him was taking its toll. Then again, Stiles' book supply was running low and there was no way of knowing when his father would extend an offer like this again. Making a decision, Stiles drew in a breath and walked into the bookstore.

A bell rang, but the sole employee and occupant of the store didn't look up from the book he was reading at the desk. Stiles wasn't bothered. He disappeared down an aisle, actively scanning the shelves.

Derek Hale had never been much of a social butterfly as long as Stiles had lived in the village and that was okay with him. Maybe the man would make eye contact with Stiles or show him some kind of warmth since he was so removed from the village gossip. Stiles smiled to himself as the dumb thought ran through his head, crouching down for a better view of the books on a shelf parallel to his knees.

The extensive Hale family was rumored to live in an extravagant house in the woods closer to this village than any of the neighboring ones. Derek Hale was the only member of the family employed in the village and the others, like Derek's older sister, Laura, were seen sparingly when the family needed something that Derek had been unable to retrieve. The family was well-respected, but left alone because they maintained a level of privacy and the villagers regarded the Hales much the same way they did the Stilinskis.

Stiles selected a book that looked promising and approached the desk with his find. Derek looked up from his own book and shifted in his seat so he was in a position to process the purchase. Stiles, incensed by some inability to let the opportunity for communication pass, said, "Lots of business, I see." He wasn't sure what he was trying to achieve with the observation, but he wasn't surprised by the reaction.

Derek simply looked back at him, frowning a little as he checked the price of the book. Stiles nodded, accepting the response and the fact that he was in dire need of casual human interaction. At least Derek was looking at him, though.

"Twelve seventy," the strange, quiet young man informed him. Stiles noticed that there was enough money for one more book and his internal debate was short-lived.

"Um, could you hold on to that? I'm going to go back and get another one." At the exasperated look, Stiles gave a sheepish smile and plunged back into the depths of the bookstore's shelves. He wanted the extra book, but he also wanted to remain in the pleasant atmosphere of the store, not ready to face his unwelcoming peers outside. That wasn't inspiring him to stall, though, and when he was still in the store fifteen minutes later it was because he genuinely couldn't find another book that he wanted to own and read.

Stiles bit his lip while examining the fifth shelf, aware that Derek probably wanted to go home sometime and that he was likely annoyed at this point. While crossing to another shelf, Stiles risked a glance at the desk to see if he should abandon the second book and leave already. He frowned when he saw that Derek had disappeared, but he returned to his search.

Suddenly, Stiles was aware of a warm body behind him, reaching up over him to take hold of a book and pull it down, requiring that Stiles duck. "I found this one interesting when I read it," the soft voice said. Stiles swallowed and turned to face Derek to see him holding the book and examining the cover. He looked up at Stiles and raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

Stiles took the proffered book and looked at the cover. He opened the book to a random page and skimmed a few paragraphs, doing the same on another page and feeling a smile develop on his face. "I think I'll take it," he replied, looking up to see Derek watching him. He was so startled by the intense green gaze that he jumped a little, only to collide with the bookshelf behind him. His heart was beating rapidly and Stiles cursed his mood-ruining anxiety when Derek looked at him strangely. He righted himself and took a breath, holding the book out to Derek with a smile. "I'll take it, thank you."

Derek took the book from his hands, spared Stiles another uneasy glance, and turned back toward the desk. Stiles followed Derek toward the front of the store and stood silently as the other man checked the book's price and added it to the first. "Twenty-two fifty."

Stiles surrendered the money and gathered the books, shuffling them into his arms and picking up the shopping bags that he'd set down before. "Thank you." He smiled again at the Hale and made his way to the exit. He wasn't expecting a response, so when the quiet "you're welcome" followed him out, he almost fell through the open door. Stiles regained his balance and turned to see Derek Hale looking at him silently with his green eyes and his emotion-free face. Something about it struck Stiles as familiar, though he'd never interacted with Derek enough for anything about the man to be familiar to him. Stiles blinked once and nodded before walking through the door and making his way back home quickly.

His dad smiled when he walked through the door. "Hey, did you get what you wanted?" The man was on his feet, ready to see what Stiles had brought back. Stiles, still shaken by his encounter with the enigmatic Derek Hale, put the groceries, remaining money, and everything else but the books on the table.

He forced a smile onto his face—not feeling remotely in the mood to smile—and nodded, presenting the books. "Yeah, thanks Dad, you read my mind." His dad's subsequent smile sent a wave of sadness over Stiles. The man looked genuinely happy that he was able to read his son's emotions and figure out what to do, something that Stiles' father had never been particularly good at and had always been up to Stiles' mother.

"What do you want for dinner?" his father asked curiously, looking through the grocery bags.

"Whatever's fine. I'm going to go break one of these in," Stiles replied, indicating his new books. His father nodded and looked up to flash another smile at his teenage son. Stiles returned it weakly and retreated to his bedroom.

Later, after dinner, Stiles lay in bed with one candle flickering on his bedside table. He'd put down his book and turned off his small lamp hours ago, and now lay staring at the ceiling while waiting for sleep. He was also listening closely for the sounds of the wolves howling in the forest.

At the rise of each one, Stiles closed his eyes and wondered if it was his wolf howling with his pack or if it was a pack with other wolves. The howling had started almost as soon as Stiles had resolved to go to sleep, motivating him to stay awake and listen. At another pause, Stiles walked to his window and leaned against the glass, looking out to the dark, still trees under the nearly-full moon. He was in awe of the sound of belonging and that it was echoed by so many wolves, but in his awe he also felt sad. He knew why, too, but didn't want to dwell on it.

Not long after that, the chorus ended and Stiles was left with nothing else to do but go back to bed. As he settled into the mattress with his blanket pulled up around his shoulders, Stiles couldn't deny—or explain—the sense that all of the howls felt comforting.


	4. Chapter 3

**Readers! You're all so amazing and wonderful! I'm constantly opening my email to see favorite and follow and review notices. One day there were 12 of 'em. I'm glad everyone's enjoying the story so far, and after this chapter things pick up. The next one will be longer, too. Thank you, all. =)  
**

The next morning, after saying goodbye to his father for the day, Stiles needed to go into the village to deliver the Sherriff's forgotten lunch. And as he left the police station, Stiles was approached by Erica and Isaac, both looking sheepish and refusing to meet his eyes directly.

"We're sorry for spreading the rumor about you," Isaac said without preamble, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched a little. Stiles gaped, unable to form a reply.

Erica had never been shy as long as Stiles had known her, but her posture was similar to Isaac's. Her gaze was focused to the left of his head as she said, "We didn't start the rumor, but we were spreading it and convincing other people to believe it." Her fingers were twisted together and she seemed to bite her lip before adding, "We really are sorry and we're going to fix it, we promise." She elbowed Isaac and he looked up from the ground to nod.

Stiles was taken aback because he'd expected the rumor to go away without getting any apology from its carriers. But he recovered quickly. "Thanks, I would really appreciate that." His voice was stiff with anger and the two teenagers both looked down again. It felt kind of good. He stood in his place until both of his peers walked away and once they were gone he drew on all of his self-control to keep from sprinting to his house and into the woods. Instead, he walked away from the main activity of the village and, once away from the bustle, broke into the desired run, passing his house for the forest.

The teenager was so surprised by the fortunate turn of events that he waited impatiently for the wolf to appear so Stiles could laud the encounter he'd had. Thirty minutes passed and Stiles' excitement ebbed, replaced slowly by a cold feeling of dread. Feeling compelled by something he couldn't understand or explain, Stiles began following his feeling deeper into the forest.

With each step, the feeling in Stiles' stomach grew stronger and heavier and he continually told himself to turn back because he didn't want to find the source of the feeling. Something continued to push him onward, though. When the feeling was at its worst, Stiles knew that he was at the end of the trail and he hesitated, swallowing before advancing into the clearing just ahead. What he saw made his stomach drop and his heart leap.

A massive black wolf lay on its side at the edge of the open space. His flanks still rose and fell, but almost imperceptibly. Stiles staggered forward, noting the ruby red blood spattered on his wolf's fur and on the ground surrounding him, and he wondered what kind of creature could fell this powerful animal. Stiles shuddered to think of it.

After a moment more of staring at his unfortunate protector, a hot determination flooded through Stiles' veins. He approached his wolf and crouched in front of the animal's vision to let him know that he was there. Then, for the first time, Stiles touched his fingers to the inky fur and stroked it back, while contemplating how he should go about moving his wolf.

The massive animal whimpered a little and—remarkably—pressed into Stiles' touch. He lifted his hand and placed it on the wolf's side so the whole surface was touching the bristly fur that gave way to softer fluff beneath. Stiles ran his hand over the fur several times, noticing as he did so that the wolf seemed to relax marginally. Then he shook himself out of it and stood, bracing his weight to lift the wounded animal from the ground.

A high-pitched whine leaked from the wolf's throat and Stiles huffed as he took a few steps with the wolf's substantial added weight. "Everything's going to be okay. I'm going to get you Deaton and he'll fix you up. I'm not losing you, too."

Stiles wasn't sure how he managed it, but he transported the wolf from the abandoned clearing to the back door of Deaton's veterinary building, having had to make a big detour to avoid being seen. Growing worried since his wolf hadn't made any indication of life in several minutes, Stiles knocked frantically and shouted, "Come quick, I need help!" All was silent and Stiles paused to readjust his hold on the wolf before raising his fist again.

The door opened before Stiles' knuckles could hit and Deaton surveyed the scene before him quickly, Stiles noticed the man's eyes widening in his shock and concern. "Come in, come in, hurry." Deaton ushered Stiles inside and provided help with the weight of the wolf. Together, they carried the huge animal into a room with an examination table and laid him down on it.

Deaton began bustling around the room and Stiles rested one hand on the wolf's head, watching anxiously. The wolf whined again, high-pitched and long, causing Deaton to turn and look directly at the wolf. He then looked at Stiles and said, "You can go, I'll take care of him from here."

Stiles' eyes widened and he shook his head. "No, I can't go. It'll be fine, I'll stay out of your way and everything, promise." Deaton shook his head.

"I think it would be best if you went back home." His expression suggested that arguing was futile and Stiles walked toward the door.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he vowed before slipping out of the office, anxiety having tied knots in his stomach. He walked slowly back toward home and held onto the hope that Deaton was going to save his wolf's life, not end it.

Stiles glanced at the rest of the town, knowing that the hurried shoppers had no idea what was at stake for him, how totally he was depending on Deaton. The bookstore was the only building that reflected the seriousness of what happened. It was closed completely, so the absolute darkness of the store was displayed by the windows. He couldn't help thinking that it looked abandoned and he swallowed the sick feeling in his stomach.


	5. Chapter 4

***Sheepish smile* Again, I'm really sorry. I hope this longer chapter makes up for it? And I'm going to try my hardest to get the rest up in a timely manner. You're all great, though. Freaking fantastic.  
**

The remainder of Stiles' day was long and tense and the only reason he was able to sleep was because his body was worn out from his prolonged state of high-alert. Even then, Stiles slept—in fits—for only five hours total.

Once the clock displayed an acceptable time for Stiles to leave his room and return to the vet clinic, he was out of his bed, in new clothes, and out of the door within seconds. Fortunately, his excitement didn't block his ears and Stiles was aware of the loud bark when it reached him from the forest. Dumbfounded and startled, Stiles stopped short and turned instantly toward the sound, scanning the trees for its source.

He felt as if his body shut down for a fraction of a second when his eyes settled on the wolf, looking haggard but definitely alright. Before Stiles truly knew what he was doing, he staggered toward the wolf, a grin splitting his face in two. "What…I don't…oh my God." He was completely unable to form a sentence in his happiness. The wolf also looked happy and Stiles barely caught himself in the act of reaching out to touch the animal.

Eventually, Stiles' mind cleared enough for him to construct a sentence. "Well, I don't know what we're still doing here at the edge of my yard." With that, the wolf stood and disappeared into the forest, followed instantly by Stiles, at a run.

When Stiles felt as if his chest was about to explode and his legs fall off, he collapsed in the still-decaying leaves from the last autumn. His chest rose and fell rapidly, but Stiles was almost laughing in his happiness. Once he felt that he could breathe comfortably, Stiles pulled himself into a sitting position and regarded the wolf that was sitting beside him, looking very different from the animal Stiles had encountered yesterday.

"You're looking better," he observed. The wolf just looked at him and Stiles smiled. "I'm glad, of course. I don't think you have any idea how worried I was. Unfortunately, Deaton knows about you now and what I was talking about the other day, but I don't care because he fixed you." The wolf was still staring at him and Stiles was sure that the questioning look was not a product of his imagination.

"You're wondering why I care so much." The wolf continued to look at him and Stiles braced himself for the ensuing craziness, looking up at the sky. "I see you every day and you stick with me as I walk around. You've listened to me talk about my mom and her death and you help me forget about it a little bit, which is still weird to me. You listen to me rant about the people in this village and make me feel better about the fact that my dad and I are outcasts." He paused before he returned his eyes to the wolf. "I'm just really glad you're okay because I kind of need you." Stiles finished and shook his head.

"And I'm crazy because I'm talking to a wolf like it can actually understand me and I draw comfort from a wild animal on a daily basis," he muttered, still shaking his head.

The wolf then made a sound similar to a whistle beside him and Stiles looked over in concern. The wolf was standing and looked at Stiles in a way that seemed familiar. Stiles slowly rose to his own feet and the wolf moved closer, taking Stiles' sleeve in his mouth. Shocked and unable to move in panic, Stiles registered the warmth of the wolf's breath and the ridges of his teeth. The wolf waited patiently as Stiles processed the sight and tugged his arm a little to be sure the wolf hadn't gotten his skin.

The patience ran out before Stiles' panic-filled wonder and the wolf began to walk, increasing the pressure on Stiles' sleeve by just a little bit to prompt him into moving. As soon as Stiles received the message, the wolf began pulling him quickly in a direction that the wolf seemed sure of. Each time Stiles stumbled or slowed, the wolf growled softly and continued on, weaving around obstacles that Stiles had no choice but to trip over.

Soon enough, they were alone in a clearing and that was when Stiles' arm was released to him. The wolf turned and looked at Stiles expectantly while Stiles continued trying to puzzle out what was going on. Once again, the wolf growled at him and Stile quickly seated himself on a rotting tree trunk. The wolf seemed satisfied because his attention shifted away from Stiles and to the ground.

His paws were spread out and he was focused on the forest floor, as if concentrating. Stiles had no idea what was happening, but it was definitely nothing he expected. Before his eyes, the wolf began to change and Stiles' brain eventually gave up on processing the sight until it was over and the wolf was replaced with something else.

Standing before him was Derek Hale and if that wasn't enough to render him speechless and shocked there was also the fact that Derek happened to be naked. Stiles was rooted to his place on the log and he could only watch as Derek moved toward a tree at the edge of the clearing and pulled clothes from its base.

As soon as the man—if he even was a man—was dressed, he turned back toward the still-stunned Stiles and grinned. Stiles was unable to move as Derek approached, pulled Stiles to his feet, and, without pause, kissed him.

Surprised and confused and quietly freaking out, Stiles pulled away after a second or two before realizing that the kissing was rather nice and wishing he hadn't. There were things that needed explaining though, a lot of things, before the return to any pleasantries. Stiles also barely knew the man who'd kissed him.

"Wha-I don't." He stopped, took another step back and a deep breath, and felt he was okay. Stiles looked up at Derek again and was startled by the intense stare that was so familiar to him, and now he knew why. "What the fuck is going on? Start there." There was no choice but to accept that Derek Hale was with him in the clearing now and to move on from that part of the mystery.

Derek looked confused for a second before seeming to understand Stiles' problem. He nodded once and motioned for Stiles to sit again, claiming a seat across from him on another fallen tree. "Do you know anything about werewolves?"

"You mean the mythical creature that turns into a wolf or a wolf-like thing when touched by the full moon?" Stiles had read a lot about werewolves in his wolf research.

"Sort of. The only difference is that we aren't a myth and we can shift whenever we want, though we are influenced strongly by the moon." Stiles took a moment to process the information, then nodded, urging Derek to continue. Continue he did, for the next half hour or so Derek explained werewolves to the stunned teenager, managing all of the questions and comments that followed or interrupted. Slowly, Stiles' surprise and disbelief morphed into full acceptance because Derek's explanation made a lot of sense.

The Hale family lived in the woods, secluded from the rest of the village, for everyone's protection because the family consisted of many werewolves and no one wanted accidents—human or wolf. The Hale family also had many pack members outside of the family and most of them resided in the house with the rest of the pack which explained a lot of the disappearances from the area. Derek also told him that there were other packs in the extensive forest, but the Hale pack rarely interacted or came into any contact with them.

When the explanation was over, Stiles sat in silence for a moment, packing away all of the information and marveling at the myth come to life. Derek seemed about to say something else, but Stiles interrupted when another thought hit him. "Do you think that it was a werewolf that killed my mother, then?" He turned his gaze to the werewolf's beside him.

Derek's expression morphed into one of confusion. "What do you mean?"

"My mother, she's dead." Stiles started, confused because Derek should know this if he was the wolf. He looked down at the ground again and twisted his fingers together between his knees. "She died three years ago when she was attacked by a wolf. She was found by a hiker, barely alive, but when help arrived she was gone. Do you think it was a real wolf that attacked her?" Stiles looked back to Derek for the answer.

Derek, though, seemed to be paralyzed. The color had drained from his face and he looked as if he'd just been told he had minutes to live. The words, "that's what Deaton meant" fell from his mouth and he stood quickly reaching out to grab Stiles' wrist. "Hey! What're you-" but Stiles was cut off when Derek started running, pulling him along.

They cut through the trees and Stiles' tendency to trip was taken care of by Derek's strong grip. In fact, Derek was doing most of the running, holding on to Stiles tight enough that Stiles' feet barely touched the ground. Before long, a huge house rose up in front of them and he felt his mouth drop open.

Derek slowed to a hurried walk, but was still pulling Stiles along as Stiles was preoccupied with the house and the grounds around it.

The house was as big as all of the rumors claimed and the land immediately around it was mostly leaf-covered but clear from trees, with flower beds hugging the front porch. There were people Stiles vaguely recognized lounging around the area, including three teenagers very familiar to Stiles who were relaxed on the porch, looking interested in Derek's approach.

"Isaac? Erica? Boyd?" The three teenagers' eyes widened when they saw Stiles, especially with Derek. There was little time to exchange pleasantries, though, because Derek pulled him up the stairs and through the front door before any other words could be uttered.

Three people rushed into the front room as soon as Stiles and Derek breached the threshold. All three looked confused, concerned, and remarkably similar to Derek. The eldest, who Stiles assumed was Derek's father, stepped forward, brow creased. "Derek? What is this?" He seemed to note his son's complexion because his brow creased further and he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Dad, Mom, Laura, this is Stiles." The younger woman, Laura, grinned and seemed suddenly torn from her concern.

"That's great, Derek! You've told him then and he's obviously accepted the fact." Her grin faded a bit as Derek's tension didn't ease. "I don't understand the problem."

"Neither do I, and I would be very happy to," Stiles interjected, successfully pulling his arm out of Derek's grip and hopefully preventing it from losing any more feeling.

"I think we should go somewhere else to have this conversation," Derek muttered, still looking sick. His mother was the one who stepped forward and took control of the situation.

"Of course, come on, let's go into the study." She then ushered everyone into a room to Stiles' right. It was lined with books and featured many comfortable-looking chairs along with a few wooden desks. Everyone took a place in the room in front of the largest desk, facing Derek. Stiles compulsively stayed nearest to Derek.

"Stiles, tell them what you told me, about your mother," Derek said gently, in a voice that screamed of fake calm. The other three looked more interested, focus totally on Stiles.

Stiles looked at Derek out of the corner of his eye, still confused, but he faced the others nonetheless. "Um, three years ago my mom was attacked and killed in the forest outside of the village we used to live in. She was found by a hiker but she died before any help could arrive. The coroner concluded that the attack was a wolf attack and that she died of her injuries and blood-loss. Animal control tried to track and kill the wolf, but they were never able to find it, so my dad moved us to the village we live in now, the one Derek works in."

All three of Derek's family members were still and had the same demeanor Derek did. It was Laura who spoke. "That doesn't necessarily mean what we think it means, though." She directed her attention to Stiles. "Tell us about your mother's mother."

"She passed away a year before my mom did, and there wasn't really anything remarkable about her besides her cooking." He thought for a second, then remembered something that was quite remarkable about his maternal grandmother. "But, when she was a little girl, something did happen to her." Everyone in the room looked intent on hearing this. "She was going to deliver food to her own grandmother and she met a wolf. Whenever she told this story she always said that the wolf talked to her, but I never believed that." He stopped upon realizing the new significance to his grandmother's story and took a breath before going on. "She took the wolf's advice to pick flowers off the path, and he disappeared. She went on to her grandmother's house and something was wrong. Her grandmother was acting unlike herself and it turned out to be the wolf she'd talked to.

"The next details are a little odd. She always said that the wolf ate her and she found her grandmother in its stomach, and then they were saved by a woodsman after he'd heard her screams or something like that. Whatever the real story was, she and her grandmother ended up alive and the wolf ended up dead.

"You've probably heard the story, though, she was kind of famous. Everyone called her Little Red, even when she was older because of a red cloak that she always wore." Stiles stopped there upon registering the expressions of the others in the room. "What?"

He was ignored, and the oldest wolf looked at his son, directing his question toward him. "Derek, how did you manage to come across the descendant of Little Red?"

Derek held up his hands in defense. "He came into the forest and never left." Stiles wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but he gathered that Derek's association with him wasn't a good thing.

"He's telling the truth. If it weren't for him I'd be dead, and he's been a really good friend to me since we've "known" each other. It's fine, nothing's wrong."

Laura smiled at him, looking sad. "I wish there wasn't. I really do. You being a descendant of Little Red is a problem, though. You see, Stiles, your mom was killed by a werewolf. We found out who it was that did such an awful thing and we brought the wolf to justice, of course. After that and after an investigation into the family, we discovered that your mom was the daughter of the woman whose attack is one of the most famous in history.

"Both of the attacks are embarrassments to our race and we've all decided to declare the family of those two women under our protection-"

"What's the problem? Derek has protected me, that's how we met. I was about to be ripped apart by a bear and he jumped in front of me at the last second." Stiles was unsure what exactly he was bargaining for, but he felt that it was important.

"Part of the agreement is to stay away from you and leave your family alone," Derek muttered, scowling at the floor. "So, I'm going to take you back home and that'll be that. I won't bother you or see you again. I'll get another job in another village, probably."

Stiles hated that idea and he suddenly panicked hearing it. In the small space of time that he'd been in the Hale residence, he'd settled and become instantly comfortable. He was on his feet and all of the wolves in the room were looking at him with concern. Derek had told him about the increased senses of the werewolves and Stiles surmised that they were reacting to his heartbeat.

"No, you can't," Stiles protested, stepping forward as Derek stepped away from him. "I want to keep seeing you. I don't know what I'll do without you."

Derek looked incredibly pained. "You'll forget about me eventually."

"Derek, I've met with you every day for two years. Every single thing I said in the woods about why I cared about your recovery was true. What about pack? You all have a connection to one another and you live together. Everyone belongs and is valued and everyone cares about each other. No one's left out or forgotten. I'm not a werewolf and I'm not going to pretend that I know what that connection feels like, but I do know what it's like to not have any kind of connection to anyone, to be an outcast." His eyes dropped from the werewolf's green. "And I know what it's like to lose someone important. I don't want to do it again."

"You won't be alone anymore. Isaac and Erica have taken care of the rumors. The next time Scott sees you he'll apologize." Derek refused to look at him and instead seemed interested in the floor.

"I know that, but, wait what? How do you know about that? I realize that they're part of your pack, but…"

"I told them to, Stiles. You told me about what they'd done and as soon as I got home I confronted them about it and demanded that they undo what they did."

Stiles was stunned. "I—you—thank you." He simply looked incredulously at Derek for a moment. His dazed silence was then interrupted by Derek's father clearing his throat.

"I think it's time you took Stiles home, Derek." The man looked sad and apologetic. Beside him, his wife wore the same expression. Derek nodded, gaze focused on the wooden floor beneath his feet. He reached out and took Stiles' arm, pulling him out of the room behind him without looking up. Laura waved sadly to him and Stiles returned it.

Derek pulled him outside and, once again, whisked him past the others too quickly for words. There were more people gathered on the front porch, peering quizzically at the human in Derek's grasp, but Derek paid them no mind and Stiles kept his eyes on the tight line of the werewolf's shoulders, still too overwhelmed and confused to speak.

The werewolf moved through the forest's trees with a determination that suggested he was still unhappy. Stiles' mind was racing until it came to a conclusion concerning the recent information he'd been given and full comprehension of the situation dawned. He tried to stop Derek's procession and had to dig his heels into the ground, pulling slightly on Derek's grip. Stiles was still dragged a few feet before the werewolf noticed, but when he did, he stopped and turned around to give Stiles the most blood-chilling glare Stiles had ever seen.

Out of the shock, though, rose anger. "Why are you glaring at me? I didn't tell you that you couldn't see me again and it's not my fault who I am. You're the one who went to tell your parents about it anyway. This mess could have been avoided if you hadn't dragged me to your house."

The anger did appear to melt off of the werewolf's face at Stiles' words, but he was still visibly upset. "You don't understand. It was for the best because now people will know to watch out for you. You're safer now than you ever have been."

"I disagree," Stiles muttered, still very unhappy about the turn of events.

"You're safer being watched by werewolves than actually being around them," Derek replied, looking at Stiles sternly. "You're just a human anyway, and you're not fit to run around with creatures that can lose control and kill you at the drop of a hat."

Stiles glared back, fists clenched at his sides though there was no point in pretending he'd use them. "Shouldn't that be my decision?" Derek seemed confused about the question and Stiles wondered—not for the first time—if Derek had really comprehended much of what he'd said when Derek was a wolf.

He tried again. "Shouldn't I be able to decide if I risk my own life?" Derek seemed about to protest but Stiles cut him off, "You can't tell me that I have to stay away from you just because of this agreement that you guys have because I don't care about it. That's awesome that you guys feel bad about what happened to my family and that you want to make up for it, but that shouldn't take away my choice.

"I was serious when I said those things about being used to being around you. When I'm with you, I feel less lonely. I do have friends in the village but, since my mom died, there's always been something that couldn't be fixed by new friends. Then you showed up and saved me from that bear and when I realized you weren't going to attack me that thing went away.

"You've been more than a friend to me and I can't imagine not seeing you anymore. Did you not see how upset I was when I found you bleeding yesterday? I was terrified that I was going to lose you. I can't do that, it would be sort of like losing my mom all over again." Stiles was desperate for Derek to view the situation the way Stiles did, so he would understand what he would put Stiles through if he disappeared.

Derek stepped closer and seized Stiles' upper arms, looking him square in the face. His expression was intense and determined and it set Stiles' heart beating a bit louder. "You're not safe around werewolves. There are a lot that are able to control themselves, but there are still others that can't. The uncontrollable ones are stronger than us when they're let loose and they could do serious damage to you. I can't let that happen." His face was strained and he seemed on the edge of pleading.

"Then turn me." The words were quiet, but Stiles found that he meant every one. He'd been comfortable at the Hale house. For some indescribable reason, he'd felt as if he'd finally found somewhere outside of his home where he belonged and he felt it the moment he'd crossed the threshold.

Derek was wide-eyed and stunned. Stiles' words seemed to be the last he'd expected and he was having apparent difficulties digesting them. The effect was short-lived and he was quickly scowling. "Absolutely not."

"Why? I requested it. Surely there's not a problem with that." Stiles glared back at the werewolf who evidently thought Stiles' life up to his dictation.

"We shouldn't even be in contact! You shouldn't know anything about werewolves because we're supposed to watch you from a distance! It was my parents who pushed so hard for the protection of Little Red's descendants and if any of the other packs knew that you and I were in contact, the deal would be broken. The only reason some have agreed to it is because of my mother's claim that the attacks are blemishes on the history and reputation of our race. There would be other werewolves trying to turn you or kill you because of a legend about the blood you have in your veins, saying that you have some kind of connection to our kind. Wolves from one of those packs figured out who you are, though, and attacked me as I went to meet with you yesterday. I managed to win the fight, but you saw the result of that. They're dead now, but it would only a matter of time before others figure it out.

"I want you to stay safe, Stiles, and I want you to stay the way you are. Your grandmother, her grandmother, and your mom were all attacked by those that wanted to erase the abnormal blood trace that was in their veins. There's something different about you, but I'm under no illusion that you mean any harm to anyone and I want you to be alive and well. The wolves that attacked your family members weren't acting on their own, and I'm afraid of an organized movement on you, the last living carrier, if the agreement is broken."

The belief that Stiles' family was touched by some kind of unnatural element was apparently widespread, then. As Stiles absorbed the information and stored it away, Derek resumed his journey to Stiles' house and, without Stiles realizing how close they were, stopped again in the clearing where Stiles usually met with Derek.

"Please don't do this," Stiles requested one last time. He controlled his voice so he wasn't begging or whining, and the appeal was the only focus.

"You need to be safe," Derek replied shortly, avoiding Stiles' eyes and instead staring over his head.

"That's bullshit. I can handle myself and I'm safe with you." Stiles' anger was rising again, but it ebbed when Derek turned his eyes back toward him. The wolf's eyes were moving back and forth between Stiles' and Stiles wondered what the werewolf was debating.

The results were displayed when Derek grabbed him around the waist and kissed him. It was very different from the first time he'd done it in that Stiles didn't pull away immediately—but, rather, put his hands on Derek's shoulders and kissed back—and in the fact that this kiss was not joyful and was instead more of a kiss to be expected from a man facing death.

Derek was the one to end it. He stared at Stiles for a moment, holding him close, before leveling their gazes so they looked straight into each other's eyes. "I love you." It was simply stated and held no presumption, but Stiles could feel the weight of the words.

"That's not fair," Stiles protested, frowning.

The werewolf nodded, looking disappointed. "I know." He stole another moment to look at Stiles intently, longing and stern instruction clear in his face. Then he was gone.


	6. Chapter 5

**School's a bitch, sorry. I'm hoping that the next interval will not be nearly as long. I also hope you all like this one, and that it was maybe worth the wait. **

* * *

Stiles should have been asleep as it was early in the morning and everybody else in town was asleep. Research, though, was keeping him awake.

Derek had left and Stiles, still reeling from everything he'd learned, had fled to his own house and barricaded himself in his room. His father wasn't home, undoubtedly another case had arisen and was keeping him late, so Stiles had no questions to answer and no interruption. He sat on his bed with every book he owned that had anything to do with werewolves, even the ones that only printed the word once, and he scoured them for information, recalling it all to his mind.

Stiles read all of the speculations that the authors had made about werewolves and took each one of them in with a grain of salt. Some of the accounts seemed informed and Stiles wondered if they were or if the writers simply had talent for guessing.

He did take occasional breaks in his research to eat and to replenish his caffeine supply. During those breaks he would remember his day with all of the excitement and disappointment and that would motivate him to return to the books. There were a few key issues that stuck out in his mind and he was determined to puzzle them out.

Every now and then, Stiles would need distraction—or he would naturally get distracted—and it took form in the book Derek had shown him. Stiles had already started the first one that he'd chosen, but the other continued to draw his gaze and he eventually gave in, opening it and diving in. Quickly, he was captivated.

The story took place in a forest and centered on two young people forging a life together amid dangers the forest held and their own conflicts. Eventually the two fell in love and the new bond united them against the external hazards, making them more equipped to handle and survive them together. The story reminded Stiles of Derek's earlier admission to him and he reached for one of the more intelligent books on his bed, flipping through pages until finding what he was looking for.

According to the author—who Stiles suspected was either a werewolf herself or a friend to one—werewolves fell in true love once in their lives and that was it, whether or not the object returned its affections—a pretty shitty deal if you asked Stiles. If what Derek felt was the real thing then Stiles was doomed to feel guilty forever.

When he'd said that it wasn't fair he wasn't only referencing the fact that they couldn't see each other. Stiles really meant that it wasn't fair for Derek to tell him that he loved him and somehow expect Stiles to return the sentiment. Stiles had only known that Derek—the man who barely talked to anyone—was his wolf—the one that he met every day in the woods and spilled his heart to—for an hour and Derek was under the opinion that he should confess his once-in-a-lifetime feeling and hope for it to be reciprocated.

Stiles didn't know Derek, not well enough for a declaration of that magnitude.

While he was making that claim to himself, though, he glanced at the books surrounding him and his resolve died. If Derek was his wolf then Stiles did know him. Words may not have flowed from the wolf, but he had always responded to the ones Stiles had delivered, and Stiles had always been able to decipher the wolf's methods of communication.

The teenager sat among his books and stared at his window and the moonlight spilling through it. It would be full soon and Stiles knew he could expect a chorus outside, then, but how many were werewolves and how many were real was impossible to know. His resolve was strengthened and he returned to the books.

Approximately an hour later, Stiles' father climbed the stairs and looked into his teenaged son's room only to find his boy fast asleep, Stiles' head pillowed on an open book and another dangling from his hand over the edge of the bed. The boy was surrounded by other books open and closed, but he didn't bother to move anything and simply put out the light, looking at the spirited boy he was raising and wondering what was suddenly so important for Stiles to throw his heart into it so completely.

Stiles woke abruptly, jumping at the unfamiliar surroundings. He heard a thud on his floor and that brought about the return of his memory and common sense. Slowly, Stiles lifted himself off of the mattress and the book he was resting his head on to reach for the book he dropped and mark his place.

As he sat in the mess of books that was his bed, everything came back to him and inspired him to get up and stumble toward his dresser. Stiles spared a glance at the window and, noticing the weather, grabbed his red sweatshirt as he left his bedroom.

His father sitting in the kitchen with his coffee and newspaper was not something Stiles expected, but his father's words were even less so. His father simply looked at him with a small smile and glanced at the book Stiles held before returning his eyes to his son's. "Good luck, kid." He winked before taking a sip of coffee and returning to his newspaper.

Stiles stood stunned for a moment, also looking down at the book he held. He wanted to ask, but he knew that his father had no knowledge of what was happening or what he was planning, though the man clearly knew something. Stiles let a smile crawl onto his own face and he felt a surge of affection for his father. "Thanks dad."

He passed his father's chair and left the house, breaking into a run when his feet made contact with the porch. Stiles was feeling a little more optimistic about what he was going to do and that inspired his venture into the forest without a second thought.

The teenager slowed to a stop when he reached the clearing where he typically met his wolf—Derek—and realized that he didn't know where he was going. He had been too surprised yesterday to really notice what they passed and in what direction they were going when Derek had taken him to the Hale house. His plan was already starting to collapse.

Stiles turned, looking at the trees and trying to distinguish something familiar, fighting the rising feeling of panic as seconds ticked on. Slowly, Stiles became aware of a nagging, tugging feeling and before he even realized it, he was walking again. He didn't recognize any of the ground he was covering, but he continued to walk in the direction he was being pulled. The more he walked the more familiar everything became and he gradually picked up his pace to resume the run it had been.

Before long, he saw the Hale house appear before him and he slowed before he broke through the trees at a walk. There were wolves lounging around on the front lawn and on the porch, a perfect image of yesterday. As Stiles stepped into the open, heads turned toward him and the front door opened, emitting a scowling Derek Hale who stalked across the yard toward Stiles.

Stiles walked forward to meet the distressed werewolf in the center of the space between the house and the forest, noticing as he did that the people in the area seemed quite keen to watch the encounter. Derek stopped in front of him and Stiles saw, with some alarm, that Derek's eyes were changing from red to green with every angry breath he took. The expression in the werewolf's eyes, though, was not one of anger but of horribly disguised desperation.

"What are you doing here, Stiles?" the wolf ground out between his teeth, teeth that Stiles couldn't help but notice were longer and sharper than human teeth.

"I'm here to talk to you," he said clearly, narrowing his eyes. Derek bared his teeth and seemed about to say something else, but Stiles cut him off.

"For starters, I'm not going anywhere. I don't care what you say about me not being allowed to be around you because, ultimately, it's my choice. And I choose to stay with you and the rest of the pack because I love it here. I haven't felt more at home anywhere since my dad and I left our old village. I want to be here, I belong here, and that's that. If anyone has a problem with it they can talk to me.

"Now that that's out of the way I have to tell you, again, that you don't need to worry about my safety. Everything I told you yesterday is still true, and the way I understand it, if I stay around here I'm safe anyway. But I know for a fact that I'm safe with you. I've known you long enough to know that you aren't going to let anything happen to me, especially not after what you told me last night. And that is the next problem I have.

"You told me that you love me…and if what you're feeling is the real thing then it would appear that you're kind of screwed. I know that werewolves only fall in love, real love, once in their lives and that once both parties are in love their heartbeats shift to match one another exactly. So, still assuming that you really do love me, you're willing to let that incredible, once in a life-time bond slip away from you?

"Then there's this." Stiles brandished the book that Derek had shown him, the red and black of the cover shining a little in the sunlight. "Not only do you tell me you love me and expect, for some reason, for me to immediately reply the same, but I have this book because of you. And I feel even guiltier about being what I am after I read most of it last night and I kind of hate you for that.

"But, I'm staying here and I'll come back every day until you accept the fact. I know that you want to be noble and keep me safe, but I'm not going to let you suffer for my sake, especially not when it's pointless."

A crowd had gathered. More wolves were outside, listening intently to what Stiles was saying and watching the confrontation with apparent excitement. Stiles recognized Laura and what appeared to be a large grin on her face. Derek's parents were also outside along with a younger girl who looked like all of the other Hales.

Stiles refocused his attention on Derek and stared hard at him, one fist clenched and one gripping the book tightly, daring the werewolf to deny him again. It seemed that Derek was speechless, and then, without warning, all of the werewolves gasped or yelped and Stiles jumped in surprise.

Everyone was staring at him more intently than before and his eyes darted around, looking for some kind of clarification, but finding none. Stiles appealed to Derek but it seemed that the werewolf was still speechless and the only change was his expression morphing into one of disbelief.

Finally help came in the form of Laura. She approached Stiles, beaming. "You can't tell, which is a shame, but your heartbeat," she reached out and touched his wrist where his pulse point was, grinning more broadly at the contact, "has changed to beat in time with everyone else's. By everyone else's I mean that your heartbeat is consistent with every other heartbeat in the pack." Stiles frowned in confusion and Laura laughed a little. "Yes, that happens when a werewolf is made and enters into a pack."

"Right, so how is mine like yours if I'm not a werewolf?"

"That's an excellent question. You remain fully human and yet your heart has changed to the rhythm of the pack," Derek's father came forward then and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder, "and it seems that you've done it all on your own."

"How?" Stiles returned his gaze to Derek, hoping that he would clarify everything.

"I don't know, it's never happened before." Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"I think it's quite obvious." Derek's mother spoke as she too came forward to stand before him. "He understands exactly what it means to be pack and he's determined to be a part of ours. If you'll recall, he's also the last descendant of Little Red, as legend states he's connected to our kind," she paused to smile at him. She then voiced her next observation while looking directly at him. "It seems, too, that Stiles has a deep connection to our Derek, one that I wouldn't normally expect from a human." She looked around at her husband and children. "I'm not at all surprised that he's made himself part of the pack."

"But I didn't do it on purpose or even consciously." Stiles protested. Mrs. Hale was giving him too much credit for an accident. It was a happy accident, but an accident nonetheless.

"I don't think that you had to. Your heart made the decision and that has more to do with this than your head does. Evidently, your place is here, running with wolves," Laura said. She took Stiles' hands, giving the book to Derek, and placed one on her chest over her heart, and one on his own neck on the pulse. It took only a moment for Stiles to detect the perfect timing the two heartbeats kept and he felt his eyes widen. Laura laughed and said, "See?"

The heartbeats didn't match exactly, but they beat in perfect rhythm. Stiles felt a grin stretch across his own face. "That's incredible," he remarked, allowing his hands to fall back to his sides and simply smiling at the people in front of him. Everyone else in the area seemed to be impressed, and the younger Hale was openly staring at him.

Stiles' eyes found Derek's and he smiled at the other, feeling a surge of happiness when it was returned. Then his breath was blocked in a tight grip that he recognized as a hug a moment later. Stiles could tell that it was Laura and he smiled, his discomfort fading instantly to be replaced by happiness. Derek's mother and father joined the mix and Stiles didn't mind his inability to breathe because the sudden flood of companionship and love was drowning that concern out of focus. There was no doubt in his mind about this being where he belonged.

Derek made a disgruntled sound that Stiles registered at a distance, but he could feel the laughter of the others around him and they peeled away so Stiles had a view of the frowning werewolf. "Do you want a piece of this, too?" he asked, holding his arms out in invitation.

A bark of laughter escaped someone when Derek accepted and held him tighter than all three of the others had put together. Stiles, too, was laughing, though no sound left his throat. He wasn't sure how exactly he felt about Derek, but that didn't keep Stiles from feeling that he'd done the right thing in coming back. Because he couldn't ignore the fact that Derek was the primary reason he did so.

Derek released him, then, and air rushed into Stiles' lungs, cutting off any words he was planning to deliver. The younger Hale girl had joined the group, peering at Stiles curiously from behind Laura's shoulder and Derek, grinning, gestured to her. "Stiles, you've met almost everyone else in my family, but this is my younger sister, Cora."

"Hello, Stiles. I've heard a lot about you and now I think I like you even more than I used to." She was grinning.

Stiles smiled back and was on the verge of saying something else, but Derek had taken hold of his arm and was dragging him toward the house for a tour.


	7. Chapter 6

**Sorry about the long break, everyone. Mid-terms and such. Anyway, here's the last chapter to Red. I hope you guys have all enjoyed it and thank you to those who've let me know with reviews or the favorites/follows. I always love opening my email to see notifications like that. =) Enjoy!**

Stiles knew that he belonged with the werewolf pack, especially since he was now part of it, but he also belonged with his father. He didn't view it simply as an obligation to his only remaining parent, either, or as a buffer to keep the widower from being all alone. Being with the man whose blood Stiles also carried was comforting, and no, he wasn't perfect about knowing exactly what Stiles needed or how he was feeling, but he tried and he wanted to be and Stiles could understand that.

That was why Stiles insisted on remaining at home with his father rather than joining the list of "disappearances" and lodging with Isaac at the Hale house. He was adamant about it through all of the explanations and persuasion that the Hales and his classmates tried to use. Eventually, Derek and his father convinced the others to back down and allow Stiles his freedom of choice.

At the end of the day, Derek offered to walk with him back to his house and Stiles accepted instantly, having not had time alone with his friend since his heart decided to join the chorus of the pack.

Derek spoke only when they reached the clearing where they met. "I still can't believe you did that. Why on earth did you come back to the house?" Derek didn't sound upset anymore, but it was clear to Stiles that Derek still wasn't thrilled about him ruining his intentions.

"To reason with you and let you know that I didn't agree with your plan and, therefore, was not going to let it go. And come on, Derek, did you really not see that coming?" Stiles stopped walking and turned toward the werewolf.

Derek's sigh was heavy enough to fell trees and Stiles raised his eyebrows. "No, I knew that you were going to try to do something. You found the house, though, that wasn't something you were supposed to be able to do."

"I couldn't let you go like that. I had to do something." Stiles tried to insert all he was feeling into his words so Derek might understand completely. "Look, you matter to me, a lot. I don't know yet if I love you back, but you are extremely important to me and I can't imagine you not being around." He broke off and, before thinking about his decision, Stiles lifted one hand and placed it on Derek's chest, over his heart.

He could hear his pulse rushing through his ears and, if that wasn't enough, his heartbeat was tangible through his chest, so putting his hand over his own heart was unnecessary. The two beat in sync with one another, in a rhythm different from the one between his and Laura's but a close fit. A smile lit Stiles' face and he stared at his hand over the werewolf's heart, amazed.

Derek stepped forward and put his hand on the back of Stiles' neck, smoothly capturing his lips in another kiss. Stiles did enjoy the kissing—very much—and he tightened his fingers around the folds in Derek's shirt, leaning into it before the other released him. "I should stop doing that," Derek quietly admonished himself, eyes closed.

"You don't have to." Derek only smiled and looked at Stiles with his warm green eyes.

"Tomorrow night is the full moon. You should come back to the house at nighttime." The werewolf said quietly, turning to leave, but Stiles recaptured him and pressed his lips firmly to Derek's.

"Okay, I'll be there." He stepped back with a grin already in place and left the clearing with it still fastened to his face, turning back once to wave and observe Derek standing motionless where Stiles had been moments before.

Stiles devoted the next day to completing the book Derek had given him, enjoying it more than he had before. And when he finished long before night was to fall, he looked through his window, picturing the Hale house and all of its occupants waiting for the full moon and for all of their pack to assemble. He wasn't sure what part he was meant to play in it just yet, but he was looking forward to it.

Even better, Scott had approached Stiles as he'd left the woods behind him last night and he'd delivered the apology Derek had promised. Stiles had accepted and attempted to have a conversation with the teenager who was and always would be his best friend. Talking wasn't easy, but by the time they bid one another goodbye, the tension had faded and words were quicker to come.

His father had been overjoyed that he'd spent the whole day out and while he refrained from asking questions or making comments, he did take the responsibility of cooking upon himself. Stiles realized that he would need to tell his dad about the truth and his part in it, but he felt that he should have time to absorb everything himself before then.

Stiles did rise from his window seat, though, and join his father downstairs to help with dinner. He seemed happy to see him and Stiles smiled in return. Seeing his dad happy was something Stiles enjoyed immensely and now it seemed to be longer-lasting than it ever had been prior to this. The teenager vaguely wondered what the cause was, but he wasn't overly concerned with it.

At the end of dinner, as they were cleaning, his father looked to him and, smiling, said, "I know that it's been hard, but I'm glad that you've settled here, son. Now, I'm not going to ask questions because I know that you don't want to talk about it, but I'm glad that you've patched up whatever's just happened that's been bothering you." He scrubbed the bowl he held, seemingly in search of more words. "It's good to have people around who care about you and who'll make your happiness a priority, and I'm glad that you're happy again." He went back to the dishes after making the declaration, leaving Stiles to smile at the return of his peace of mind and his father's spirits.

It was late when they retreated upstairs and to their bedrooms, and it was about time for Stiles to venture out to the Hale house. He waited for the sound of his father getting into bed and stood poised by his door, his sweatshirt in hand. When the old bed down the hall groaned and creaked, Stiles slipped into the hallway and closed the door behind him to cut the moonlight spilling out.

The stairs were oddly quiet as Stiles descended and the door was silent as he pushed it open and stepped outside. The full moon lit everything to a point that it looked nearly identical to daylight. Stiles knew that would change a bit when he entered the forest, but he wasn't worried about finding his way or stumbling upon trouble. Without another delay, he drew the sweatshirt over his head and took off.

Stiles felt the pull of the pack as soon as he was in the trees and followed it eagerly, all hesitations vanished. Before long he broke into the clearing that held the Hale house and the Hale pack and, quite obviously waiting for him, Derek.

"Hey," Stiles greeted breathlessly from the steady jog that he'd traveled at.

"You're right on time," Derek said, smiling welcomingly and holding an arm out to beckon him farther into the clearing. "We're going to move to another clearing, but we were waiting for you. Did you get away alright?"

"Yeah, I was just spending some time with my dad." Stiles' response earned him a tight, warm hug from Derek and—once he was released—another from Laura.

"That's why you belong here," Isaac answered, interpreting Stiles' raised eyebrows as he joined the other three, Erica and Boyd with him. "You understand your bonds to other people." A low growl rumbled quietly in Derek's chest, but Stiles shook his head at the werewolf.

"Hey Isaac. Erica. Boyd. Nice to see all of you." Erica grinned at him and Boyd inclined his head.

"What about him?" Isaac said, indicating an approaching figure without turning his head. The figure grew closer, but Stiles knew exactly who it was when he looked.

"Scott?" Stiles had the unshakeable sensation that his eyes were open so far they were in danger of falling out.

"Hey, Stiles." Scott seemed uncomfortable, but Stiles wasn't acknowledging that.

"I knew that there was something weird going on what with your frequent disappearances, but I thought you were just sneaking out to Allison's. Nice of you to tell me about this, though, all of you," he spun to address everyone around him, Derek in particular.

"Surprise!" Erica said, also uncomfortable but disguising it better than Scott.

"I was going to, but Derek said that he wanted to tell you about all of this. He said it was important that he show you and tell you. And he is my alpha's son and a high-ranking beta, so I couldn't argue."

Stiles sighed but was prevented from replying by Derek's parents moving to the head of the pack.

"Alright, everyone's here now." Stiles caught Derek's mother's smile at him. "Yes, it's time for us to move on, if you'll follow us," his father finished his wife's beginning.

Stiles was confused and slightly alarmed, but Derek reached down and took his hand. "We're only taking the gathering to another clearing," he said quietly. Relief flooded Stiles' system and he nodded, wondering vaguely why his anxiety had lifted the moment Derek touched him.

Silence fell upon the werewolves as they began to journey into the forest. Some shifted into wolf forms, all unique in appearance, and Stiles waited for Derek to change as well. Derek, though, kept his hand in Stiles' as the pack flowed onto clear ground and almost every other werewolf shifted into full wolves. Stiles walked a few steps further than Derek and registered the other standing behind him.

There were grunts and humming sounds, but quickly everyone settled down and seemed to be waiting for a signal. Stiles was slowly aware of Derek leaning closer and putting his arms around Stiles' waist before whispering, "Red? Really?" Stiles only smiled, his eyes on the moon.

The first howl rose from Derek's father and mother simultaneously. That seemed to be the signal for the rest of the pack because howls rose right and left. Stiles—unaware that he'd leaned back into Derek's chest—stood straight and looked around in wonder. He understood exactly what each one meant and that this was mostly a show of solidarity and claim and he felt his heart race at the sounds. Stiles' eyes slipped closed and Derek's hands found his shoulders as he let out a howl to join the others of his family.

Stiles knew that he would only embarrass himself by trying it himself and happily gazed at the moon as the chorus echoed around him. Again—though he wasn't mindful of it happening—Stiles settled backward into Derek's chest, feeling the other's heartbeat through his back.

Derek's hands tightened on his shoulders then, and the wolves who weren't howling turned their heads quickly to the werewolf and the human pack member. Stiles was about to ask for an explanation, but Derek turned him around and kissed him before he could.

This kiss bore no resemblance to the others. It was deeper and more insistent than any of the other three. The first had been excited but random and the second sad and desperate, but the only thing Stiles could decipher from this kiss was a burning joy that seemed to almost be bursting from Derek's chest the way he was attempting to impress it on Stiles. Stiles, though, put his arms around Derek's neck and returned the kiss with his own fire, hoping to convey the overwhelming feeling engulfing his body.

When Stiles was in need of air, Derek released him and held him by his upper arms as if he were a newfound treasure. Head spinning a little, Stiles looked at Derek in wonder and attempted to ask the purpose of such a gesture. Derek interrupted him, though, by taking Stiles' hand and putting it over his heart, placing the other on Stiles' chest.

It took Stiles only a moment to realize that the two heartbeats matched exactly, not a space in between their shared rhythm. Stiles felt his eyes grow again and his mouth fall open, but before he could release words, he was wrapped in two rib-crushing hugs from his front and his back. He knew before looking that it was Laura and Cora. He also knew that Derek's parents were standing a few feet away. Stiles only laughed because everything felt perfect.

Eventually he was permitted to breathe again and received a kiss on the cheek and a strong, momentary hug from Derek's mother and father, respectively. When that was finally finished he was allowed to stumble back to Derek, catching sight of his classmates' expressions, reading them perfectly even if the teenagers were in wolf forms.

Derek put his hands on both sides of Stiles' head and touched their foreheads together. His eyes were closed and Stiles felt it had something to do with mixed disbelief and happiness. The werewolf was whispering something, though, and Stiles was able to hear it after focusing only a little more intently on the sound of Derek's voice.

"My mate, my mate," Derek whispered repeatedly, tightening his grip minutely and pushing into Stiles in an overwhelmed attempt at nuzzling.

Stiles' heart leapt at the words and he couldn't help himself. He grabbed Derek's head, causing the other to raise it and stare at Stiles with intensity the teenager had never seen before. Stiles only let it stall him for a moment though before pressing himself against Derek and resuming their earlier kiss, recapturing the fire in an instant.

"I love you, too," he whispered during a pause. "Sorry it took me so long to recognize," he finished in another.

"Doesn't matter," Derek gasped when they parted.

"I'll need to mention this, then, when I notify the Council about the addition to our pack." Derek's father was smiling. "Not to worry," he assured in response to Stiles' uneasy expression, "there's nothing they can do. You are part of the pack and you are my son's mate. They cannot raise a hand against you or anyone else without serious consequence, the same that would apply if you were part of the pack as a turned werewolf."

Stiles felt that his grin would split his face as he turned back to Derek. "Success," he cheered quietly, though he knew that everyone heard it. Derek only squeezed him a bit before Stiles reconnected their lips in another kiss not as searing as the last, but just as sincere.

The howls rose again, but Stiles tuned them out in favor of the sound of his pulse rushing in his ears.

~The End~


End file.
